


Bucky Barnes and The Very Suckish Day

by discountwhore



Series: one genetically engineered supersoldier, an amnesiac whose having a bad day and a partridge in a pear tree [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes has a bad day, Bucky Barnes has a sweet tooth, Bucky Barnes has an emotional attachment to chocolate, Bucky and Steve bond over mugs, Chocolate, Crying Bucky Barnes, Explicit Language, Humorous Ending, M/M, Oops, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers owns at least one eagle sweater and you cannot convince me otherwise, What Have I Done, he always does tbh, preferably by a certain supersoldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:12:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountwhore/pseuds/discountwhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the "I'm just trying to buy chocolate because it's been a long day and I overheard this hot guy in front of me say to his friend 'we're running out of chocolate and it's estimated that in twenty years chocolate will be as rare and as expensive as caviar if this shit don't get better' and I started crying because why the fuck would you say that and you're apologizing profusely and your buddy is laughing so hard he's wheezing" stucky au because I'm weak</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Barnes and The Very Suckish Day

**Author's Note:**

> I called up satan and asked if he could reserve a good seat for me in hell after this and he was like "yeah sure man" and I was like "thanks fam"
> 
> It took me five minutes to stop laughing at the ending to even post this bc I'm an idiot
> 
> I hope you all get a laugh out of this  
> and for every comment this gets bucky barnes is a little bit happier so comment to save a bucky
> 
>  
> 
> ] aaahh 1400 hits?? why omgosh this is just a stupid lil thing I wrote on a whim tysm to everyone who took the time out of their day to read this trash,, just thank you aahh

* * *

 

 

Now, James Buchanan Barnes has never been a complainer.  
Granted, his job graces him with a steady amount of cash to get him through the weeks and have enough left over to seriously kick some ass on whatever new video game that beckons him to purchase. And yes, granted, he does have a nice family and a perfectly average car, and a perfectly average education, and a perfectly normal life. There's not much to complain about.  
Except maybe the fact he lost his left arm as a baby. That kinda sucked. The doctor called it _congenital amputation_. Bucky called it being born with no fucking left arm.  
But, again, perfectly mundane and non-suckish.

So, if Bucky were to really complain, it'd be a fifty two minute long rant about today.  
Okay, lets just establish the truth of the fact that today was fucking awful.

Normally, he'd wake up to his phone blasting Glee's rendition of _Don't Stop Believin_ ' but today he woke up to the sound of his old lady neighbor banging on his door and shouting, _"turn that goddamn alarm off or I'm going to give you your second lost limb, you fucking twat."_ which would have been the highlight of his day, to be honest, hearing usually docile old ladies say _fuck_ and _twat_ in the same sentence was a rare and hilarious occurrence — if he hadn't of slept through said alarm.

He was supposed to clock in at work at 7 _AM_.  
It was 10 _AM_. By the time he got there, they told him to just go home. Which he did. At least, he tried to — his _2013_ Ford Fusion broke down halfway there. And it took three fucking hours for roadside assistance to get there and one more to get a tow truck. Took thirty minutes to get a friend to come give him a ride (he was infinitely in debt to Natasha Romanova for driving out in the snow and ice to pick his sorry ass up) back to his place and on the way there, got his prosthetic arm stuck in the car door.  
And he broke his favorite fucking mug.

Around _5:30_ in the afternoon he had successfully eaten every sweet thing he had in his small apartment.  
Peanut butter and honey toast, the last two scoops of his coffee ice cream, a chocolate bunny he got on sale a week after Easter (thou shalt not fret, it's only a week old) and last years Halloween candy.  
Thou should fret over that, because it was awful and made Bucky sick.

Thirty minutes later Bucky was shrugging on his winter coat and with the determination of a soldier, began to walk his ass to that little market he could see taunting him outside his window. It had been a shitty day with shitty occurances and all he wanted to do was buy three king-sized Hershey bars and the fifth season of Game Of Thrones.

The walk was a long and trying journey, but alas, Bucky made it with only slight injury (the weather made his metal arm freezing cold and he rubbed his warm neck out of habit. _RIP_  Bucky Barnes.). The shop was rather cute, with it's hardwood floorboards and cozy olive walls, soft music playing in the background. Bucky thinks its Elvis, but he isn't sure. It reminds him of soft sweaters and fireplaces and hot cocoa and fairy lights and everything winter is supposed to be. An old driftwood sign hung above the double doors in the front, elegant hand-painted letters curled to make _The Inglenook_ in a shade of red that seemed to glow. Snow gathered on the little blue canopy underneath it. Bucky pushed open one of the doors and a pleasant little _ching_ resounded, the warmth that enveloped him when he stepped foot inside wasn't felt only on the outside, either. The atmosphere was akin to returning home after a long road trip, and it brought a smile to Bucky's face.

He'd been here enough times to know where the chocolate was, so he headed in that direction; if he picked up seasons four and five of Game Of Thrones and a new mug, well, consider him weak.

He got in line behind two guys.  
One of them looks vaguely familiar and has a name tag that said _Hi, my name is: Sam Wilson_ that Bucky allowed himself to laugh a little at, if only for the cliché. The other guy was tall, and blond, and donning a sweater that had an American eagle on the front. He glanced back at Bucky, and they both smirked to each other when they saw they both had mugs. Bucky's mug read: _make tea, not war_.  
The blond's said " _time to get star spangled hammered_ " with a little red, white and blue flag.

The big blond one turned to his friend and spoke.  
"We're running out of chocolate, you know. We're eating thousands of metric tons more cocoa than the world can produce each year, and that number would reach one million by the year 2020. It's estimated that in twenty years chocolate will be as rare and as expensive as caviar if this shit don't get better."

Once again, Bucky was not a complainer.  
Nor was he a cry-er. He could only recall a few times he's ever cried in his life, excluding the years spent as a toddler. The first time was when Jonah Clarke called his prosthetic arm _cold, hard and ugly_ in the third grade, and Bucky had responded by saying _you're just jealous that I've got a winter shoulder_ and it stuck and Bucky was crowned "the winter shoulder" until fourth grade when they changed it to "the winter soldier" and Bucky cried because the other kids kept pointing finger guns at him and it was downright _rude_.

The second and third times were when he was thrown into dumpsters in the sixth grade, but he didn't really like to think about that.

Now, for the offical fourth time, he started crying.  
Laugh at him. Mock him. Sneer at him. But chocolate was always there when he needed it. Every night spent awake because _what if I don't get the job? what if I have to move back in with my family? what if I never amount to anything or if I never find a wife? or a husband? dear fuck, am I gonna die a one armed virgin?_   was always a night that he spent extra money on chocolate, because chocolate was comfort.  
Chocolate was those little dark cocoa pieces his mom could put on homemade toffee for their relatives and he'd steal one and his mom always let him help her put them in tins.  
It was practically family. Chocolate was his big brother making him hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies on nights Bucky was too scared of the monster under his bed because his dad let him watch his first R rated movie.  
Today was not the fucking day to be saying this shit and Bucky had enough of this awful day and now chocolate wasn't even going to be there for him in twenty years?

"Hey, whoa, man. You okay?" the guy with the ridiculous name tag leveled him with a look of concern and the hot one started to panic which made Bucky cry even _harder_ because people were starting to stare and the only thing Bucky could blurt out was, "why the fuck would you say that?" which made the first guy, Sam, starts wheezing with laughter and the one with the cute ass shoved him and starting chanting a mantra of "shit, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, shit" that Bucky couldn't tell if it made everything better or worse because now blondy felt bad which in turn made him feel _ultra_ shitty.

"Hey, you alright? My name's Steve."

Steve put his hands on Bucky's shoulders, then the sides of his face, wiping away the tears brimming at his cheeks and Bucky thinks he's never seen blue eyes of such magnitude. Sniffing quite pathetically, he nods his head and reaches up to bat away the hands cradling him. "M'fine," he says, and in an humiliation fueled move, covers his face. The too long sleeves of his maroon sweater scratch at his sensitive eyes. "Just a bad day."

"It seems like more than just a bad day, pal," Steve says, and Bucky can practically hear the smile in his voice. He peeks, just to make sure, and he finds he's right; Steve is smiling at him with such warmth.

"Come on, now," He says, coaxing Bucky's hands from his face. Bucky's heart flutters stupidly because Steve holds them instead.

Bucky elects to ignore the look of curiosity that passes over his face when he feels metal under Bucky's glove, instead choosing to tug his hands free from the other's grip and tuck his hair behind his ears, a bit self consciously. Sam's voice makes him flinch.

"Winter soldier?"

Bucky hangs his head, trying in vain to disappear into the navy scarf around his neck. "How do you know that name?"

Sam is looking at him incredulously, like he's seen a ghost.  
To be fair, he may as well have. "I haven't seen your face in ages." Sam laughs. "Been too long, brother."

And the pieces kind of click, and the gears start turning in Bucky's mind and _ah_ , Sam Wilson.

"You used to sit next to me on the bus," Bucky half-smiles. Steve is looking between the two with curiosity and puzzlement.

Sam shuffles closer and claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder, only to snatch it away again with a, " _Ow_. I almost forgot, the shoulder thing." and Bucky laughs because _yeah_ , the 'shoulder thing'.

"You were, like, a black belt back in the fourth grade. I couldn't believe you sat next to me."

"Hey, kids were assholes, man. If sitting next to a guy is all it takes to scare them off, I'm happy to help."

Bucky smiles, and Steve pokes Sam's side, motioning to an impatient line forming behind them. Sam starts placing his basket of stuff on the conveyer belt, and Steve turns to Bucky.

"Do you wanna go get coffee?" Steve asks, and god fucking damnit, those eyes are back on him and Bucky just grins and Steve grins back and if after they bought their stuff and stepped foot back out into the cold, wintry street, Steve grabbed his left hand and Sam gave them an odd look, that was okay.  
The Winter Soldier kinda liked it.

Today sucked extraordinarily, but as Bucky would soon find out, that was okay, because Steve Rogers sucked dick _extra_ extraordinarily.

**Author's Note:**

> one day I'll stop overusing italics but that day is not today


End file.
